Wink Murder
by Final Inspiration
Summary: Wink Murder. It's a game. Just a game.....................................................................................................................................................................................rating for future content, please R
1. Laser Vision and Hand Knitted Tea Cosies

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that you recognise from any of the Harry Potter books, and I definitely don't own the game of Wink Murder, although I may have altered the rules slightly.

**Becki's Note:** Well, I hope you'll be kind. I was struck by an idea, even though I had no intention of writing a fanfic. I hope it is up to your standards.

♠                      *                      ♠__

**Chapter One**

It was a warm September evening, and the light filtering through the common room windows was a dusky pink flecked with gold. Harry looked up as Hermione spoke, breaking the silence that had settled in their corner.

'Ron, do you think it'll be ready yet?'

Harry frowned. As far as he knew, there was nothing happening that night except for a lot of Transfiguration homework being rushed through. (Apart from Hermione's, of course: she had done hers in the library days ago.)

'What'll be…'

He was interrupted by Ron's answer.

'Yeah, we've given them plenty of time.'

'Given who…'

Hermione smiled.

'Good. Let's go then. Come on, Harry.'

'What? But…'

'Come _on_!' said Ron impatiently. 'Are you really that desperate to do your homework? You'll be turning into Hermione any day now.'

Harry sighed.

'But I don't know…'

'Never mind' Hermione butted in. 'Just get a move on.'

'Oh, fine' Harry said, resigned to not knowing what the hell his best friends were talking about. 'I guess I'll find out soon enough.' He couldn't help wondering if Dobby had cooked up some 'amazing' surprise for him: a hand-knitted tea cosy maybe?

They walked for several minutes, not down the marble staircase leading to the entrance hall, but along the corridors of the seventh floor. At last, they came to the painting of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry's mind suddenly clicked.

'What? The Room of Requirements? Why do we want that? We only ever used it for the DA.'

'Exactly!' Hermione beamed.

'But…'

'You'll see' she said, grinning at his bemused expression.

She walked forwards and backwards three times, muttering something incomprehensible under her breath. Suddenly, a door appeared where a picture of a rather bloated monk had been. She counted slowly to three, glanced at Ron, and flung open the door.

A wave of noise hit them as they stepped inside. At least a dozen people were shouting, screaming and cheering. Harry noticed that the room looked much as it had done the night that Umbridge had caught them, except for the banners that now adorned the walls. He strained to see one of them over the heads of the small crowd. It read 'Happy Birthday Harry!!'.

'What?' he yelled, trying to make himself heard. 'My birthday was months ago!'

'Yeah,' shouted a voice he recognised as Seamus's. 'But we thought you deserved a party even if it is late.'

Harry grinned. He would bet anything that this had been Hermione's idea.

'Shurrup all of you!' yelled Ron, his fingers now in his ears.

Finally everyone quietened down, and Harry was able to concentrate enough to see who had been making all the racket. There was Ginny, Luna (what looked like half a beetroot dangling form her ear), Hannah Abbot, Michael Corner (who kept glancing reproachfully at Ginny), Neville, Dean (glaring at Michael), Lavender and Parvati, close beside Padma and Cho, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot and, Harry was surprised to see, Zacharias Smith. The remaining members of the DA.

Harry felt he should say something, uncomfortable though he was at all this attention.

'Well, thanks for turning up, all of you, but I really…'

There was a collective sigh, and Cho said:

'Oh, shut up Harry. We came because we wanted to be here, and to wish you a happy birthday. Please don't go all humble on us, just enjoy yourself for once!'

Harry opened and shut his mouth. There was nothing he could really say to that. Amazingly, he noticed, he was able to answer Cho without blushing, stuttering, mumbling or making a fool of himself in any way. Neither did his stomach try to throw itself out of his mouth as he had become used to.

'Whatever you say. I can't argue with that.'

Ginny grinned evilly.

'Right. Partaaaaaaaaaaay!

♠                      *                      ♠__

Several noisy, hyper, enjoyable hours later, most of the group were sitting around, sipping butterbeers or cold pumpkin juice, which Dobby had apparently provided for them. Harry grinned slightly as he thought that his first guess hadn't been that far off after all.

Parvati stood up.

'Right. Games. We've done enough dancing.'

A groan went around the room. Someone finally voiced everyone else's thoughts. It sounded suspiciously like Zacharias Smith.

'Not Truth or Dare, please! Everyone _always_ plays Truth or Dare. I'm sick of it!'

Parvati sighed.

'No. _Not_ Truth or Dare. Wink Murder.'

About three faces in the group (Parvati's, Hermione's and Justin's) didn't immediately form expressions of confusion.

'Er…what's Wink Murder?' Hannah Abbot asked tentatively.

Luna answered her before Parvati had a chance to speak.

'It's a highly dangerous game in which muggle spies use laser vision to decapitate their unsuspecting enemies and…'

Parvati cut across her.

'No, Luna. It _is_ a muggle game, but it does _not_ involve decapitation or laser vision.'

Several people laughed in a relieved kind of way, and Parvati continued.

'Everyone has to stand in a circle, and one person leaves the room. They are called the Detective. One of the remaining people is selected to be the Murderer.'

It was pretty obvious that she had got the instructions from a Muggle Studies textbook, even though it wasn't one of her subjects for OWL.

'When the Detective comes back into the room, the Murderer has to wink at another player without being seen. That player then has to pretend to die. The Detective has three guesses in which to find out the identity of the Murderer. If he or she is correct, the Murderer then becomes the Detective.'

She paused and took a deep breath.

'Got it?'

Most people nodded, but there were still a few confused faces, although some of these could have been caused by hearing what sounded eerily like Professor McGonagall's voice coming out of Parvati's mouth. Ginny decided to help her out.

'Well, I'm sure we'll pick it up as we go along. Any volunteers for the Detective?'

Harry glanced around, wondering whether anyone would dare try out one of Parvati's ideas, though he kept this thought to himself.

'I'll try it' said Luna, 'It sounds a good game to me, though they certainly stole the name, as I said earlier.'

As there were no other volunteers, they were forced to agree, although Harry couldn't help thinking that Luna was the sort of person who was least likely to stick to the rules. One thing was for sure: this was going to be an interesting game.

♠                      *                      ♠__

**Becki's Note II: **Please review: it would mean a lot to me. Don't be afraid to criticise, but please don't flame unless you have a genuine point to make. I will only update if I get reviews, as I see no point in writing for a non-existent audience. Thank you!


	2. Salad Vegetables and Top Hats?

**Disclaimer:** Do I own Zacharias in a top hat? No. More's the pity…

**Becki's Note:** Thanks to my **two** reviewers, _Aravis__ Traitre_ and _Lady Pyra_. Yes, someone likes my fic! Woohoo! Yay! Doo doo doo…never mind. On with the show…

♠                      *                      ♠__

'Gin, you ready?' Parvati asked.

'Yep. All set' she grinned back.

'Right. LUNA!' everyone winced as she yelled. 'YOU CAN COME BACK IN NOW!'

There was no answer. Parvati drew a deep breath, but Ernie interrupted before she could finish deafening them.

'Parvati, couldn't you just open the door and tell her to come in?'

Parvati looked rather put out, but said 'Fine. Whatever.'

She strode over to the door and poked her head out.

'Luna, you can come back in now.'

She withdrew her head and strode into the middle of the room, closely followed by Luna.

'Right, everyone.' She beamed. 'Into a circle. Oh, apart from you.' She nodded to Luna. 'You stand in the middle.'

They assembled into something that vaguely resembled a rather-squashed-apple-shaped circle.

'Three, two, one, GO!'

Harry couldn't help thinking that Parvati was taking the infant-school teacher enthusiasm a little too far, but he was distracted by a squeal as Lavender fell to the floor, twitching and moaning. He tried to put thoughts of the Cruciatus curse firmly out of his head, and laughed along with the rest.

'Er, has anyone soundproofed the room?' Hermione asked.

'Why the hell would we want to soundproof the room?' Zacharias Smith sneered.

Next to him, Cho gave a bloodcurdling scream and fell to her knees, an expression of (very realistic) intense pain on her face. He looked up and grimaced. Cho winked at Hermione behind his back.

'Because' she smirked 'I really don't think Professor Flitwick would be too pleased if we made the entire school think there was an axe-wielding murder on the loose, do you?'

He scowled and mumbled something that sounded like 'Whatever, know it all'.

She waved her wand and said a spell Harry didn't recognise (but he almost certainly should have done).

As soon as she had stepped back into the circle, Hermione got the shock of her life as Ron keeled over sideways, landing on her shoulder. She blushed, and shoved him off. He then opened one eye, scowled, and fell over backwards.

Several scream-filled minutes later, only seven people were left: Ginny, Harry, Dean, Hermione, Neville, Hannah Abbot and Padma Patil. Luna turned to glare at each one of them in turn. Surprisingly, she hadn't yet used a single guess to accuse an obviously innocent person of stabbing people in the back with a knife.

'How many guesses do I have?' she asked 'Three?'

Harry nodded, and Padma grinned. She, too, was obviously expecting some far-fetched accusation.

'Right, then I accuse Harry, Neville and Padma. There's obviously a conspiracy going on here.'

Harry tried to hide his laughter, and coughed into his fist.

'Luna, there is only one murderer. That's the rules.'

'Ah,' she said with a sly grin that Harry didn't dare to contemplate the source of. 'But criminals never stick to the rules, do they? That's what makes them criminals!'

Ron sighed.

'Loon- Luna, we are _not_ criminals. We are your _friends_. This is a _game_.'

She stamped her foot haughtily, and several people currently lying on the ground, their limbs sticking out at odd angles, sniggered. Harry caught Parvati's gaze, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. He grinned.

'Just because I have a salad vegetable dangling from my ear, you think I don't know sarcasm and patronisation when I hear it? Anyway, I accused you. Are you guilty?'

All three of the accused shook their heads, and Ron whispered in Harry's ear when Luna wasn't looking.

'So she _has_ realised it's a vegetable. There I was just thinking she had bad eyesight.'

Harry nearly cracked a rib trying not to burst out laughing. Butterbeer (when drunk in excess) can do that to a guy.

'But you're lying, of course' said Luna. 'After all, why should murderers tell the truth? If you can kill a man without guilt, why should lying be a problem?'

Several more people obviously sighed or rolled their eyes, and Parvati heaved herself to her feet.

'Well, Luna, that's your go gone. Anyone else for a turn? Ginny, you were the murderer. How about you?'

Ginny gulped.

'Well actually, I'm rather tired. How about we just stop playing?'

There were quite a few nods of agreement, which were suddenly halted as Parvati said

'Well, that's okay. I've got loads more games we can play.'

'Er…' Hermione said quickly 'I think Ginny's right. We should be getting to bed. After all, it _is_ lessons tomorrow.'

Parvati looked slightly affronted, but nodded.

'Well, I guess you're right. This was _soo_ much fun, wasn't it?'

No one answered her.

♠                      *                      ♠__

Lying in his bed an hour later, Harry thought sleepily that maybe Parvati's ideas weren't all bad ones: after all, if Luna had played by the rules, it probably could have been a good game. He turned over, yawned, and began to dream of pumpkin pies, butterbeer, and Zacharias Smith in a top hat. He never did find out why.

♠                      *                      ♠__

Exactly one week later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were walking out of the library, thoroughly pleased with themselves. They had managed to complete a three foot potions essay in less than 90 minutes. It had to be a world record. Or just the fact that Hermione (for some inexplicable reason) gave them all the answers. Even so, Harry was still down in the dumps. No matter how hard he tried, or what other people did, he couldn't get Sirius' face out of his head. And even then, he couldn't bring to mind the good times; the times they had laughed and joked together. Whenever he began to smile, a laughing Bellatrix Lestrange appeared and made Sirius vanish in a puff of smoke and a flash of green light. It's hard to be cheerful when something like that is etched onto your brain.

Hermione was doing her best to understand, but Ron, as usual, didn't have a clue. Harry wasn't annoyed with him as such; he just grew exasperated at Ron's persistence at trying to cheer Harry up. Hermione had given up long ago, and just listened when Harry talked, and talked when Harry wanted to listen. She was a great help, not only in distracting him, but providing vague amusement when she argued with Ron – their attempts to not become a 'couple' were failing miserably. And humorously.

As they walked down the marble staircase into the entrance hall, a wave of silence greeted them. Harry stopped in his tracks, a wave of nausea hitting him full in the stomach. He looked sideways. Ron and Hermione were wearing similar expressions of apprehensiveness and fear. They could all, without saying a word to each other, tell that something was wrong.

'What the hell?'

♠                      *                      ♠__

**Becki's Note:** Sorry I couldn't come up with a better cliffie, but I really couldn't be arsed. **REVIEW**, o mighty fanfiction readers, **REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!**


	3. Anthony's Secrets

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, I own this. I just lie here writing on my chaise longue by the side of my Olympic-size pool in my Armani bikini…I wish. 

**Becki's Note:** I know I have been updating very frequently, but it may not last. Sooner or later I will come across a writer's block, so please be prepared. Thankyou again to:

_Aravis Traitre_: I'm not quite sure what to make of that review, but I'm taking it as good… :P

_Lady Pyra_: Thankyou, I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long.

♠                      *                      ♠__

**Chapter Three**

Ron's voice rang shrilly in Harry's ears.

'What the hell is going on?'

Without a glance at the other silent spectators, the three made their way alone into the centre of the entrance hall, and watched as two figures walked slowly through the huge doors, carrying what was unmistakably a body.

As they entered, a hushed whisper went around the room.

'You know who?'

'Was it him?'

'Who is it?'

'Are they…'

'Dead?'

Professor Dumbledore raised his head and looked at Harry. He knew, somehow, that the headmaster wanted to speak with him. Urgently. But he didn't want to interrupt the stone silence that had settled upon the crowd watching.

As they passed by, the body drifting up the stairs on a magical stretcher, Harry caught a glimpse. It was Anthony Goldstein, the same boy who had faked death a week ago, and whom Harry had laughed at. It was a strange feeling: not grief or remorse, but almost a sense of déjà vu. He did not speak, but made his way silently to Dumbledore's office, where he knew the headmaster would return to. How long he would have to wait he did not know, but frankly he didn't care. Ron and Hermione followed him like shadows, flitting just out of his vision.

When they reached the gargoyle, Harry realised, not for the first time, that he didn't know the password. However, to Harry's great surprise, Hermione spoke.

'Fizzing Whizzbees'

The moving staircase appeared, and Harry did not question her. He stepped onto a stone step and let himself be carried upwards. Ron and Hermione did not follow.

♠                      *                      ♠__

Harry didn't knock, but strode confidently into the room which had become almost familiar to him over the years. He took a seat in a squashy armchair and settled down to wait.

While he sat, staring at the pile of ashes on Fawkes' perch, he had a lot of time to think. Although everyone assumed the murder was Voldemort's work, Harry couldn't help thinking that the Dark Lord was unlikely to make pointless killings. He hadn't known much about Anthony, except that he was a Ravenclaw, and took Hermione's Muggle Studies class. Surely no one except Hermione would take that class if they were muggle born. And anyway, she would have used that as ammunition in her constant fights with Ron over the subject, which he never seemed to grow tired of.

So why would Voldemort want to kill him? He wasn't muggle-born, and had no connection with Dumbledore as far as Harry knew, apart from being his student. And if that was the reason, well, they were all doomed. They were all students and therefore all at risk.

He began to contemplate the terror and panic that would surely sweep the school if this line of thought was taken up. No one would be safe, and the freedom they had of roaming around the school and grounds would be lost. Countless more people could be slaughtered, if Voldemort was behind it. But still, Harry had a hard time believing something like that would really happen. Mass slaughter and terror throughout the Wizarding community, Harry could believe that of the Dark Lord, but starting at Hogwarts? Where Dumbledore, the only man Voldemort had eve feared, resided? Surely not. If that was Voldemort's plan, he had obviously got a screw loose. Either that or he just hadn't thought the whole thing out. More likely, it just wasn't Voldemort.

If anyone knew, it would be Dumbledore.

After around fifteen minutes, there was a squawk from Fawkes' perch, and Harry turned to look as a baby bird staggered to its feet, blinking blearily at him. He smiled. Maybe they shouldn't give up hope just yet.

♠                      *                      ♠__

Professor Dumbledore opened the door slowly, and Harry saw that the twinkle in his eyes had vanished; only temporarily he hoped. Harry stood up to greet the headmaster, but Dumbledore motioned him to sit back down. Only when he was sat behind his desk, tips of his fingers together and half-moon glasses on the end of his nose, did Dumbledore speak.

'Thank you for waiting so patiently for me, Harry. I have no doubt that you understand the seriousness of the situation.'

Harry did not know whether Dumbledore expected an answer, but thought it best to wait for him to continue.

'Before I ask anything of you, have you any questions to ask me?'

Harry tried not to look too surprised, but obviously hadn't been too successful, as Dumbledore smiled at him with the twinkle back in his eye again. However, it faded with his smile.

'I've only got one thing I really want to know.' He looked up at Dumbledore.

'Ask away.'

'Was it Voldemort?'

The bluntness of this question clearly shocked him, but Dumbledore answered calmly.

'As always, Harry, you ask the question for which I do not, at present, have an answer. It may, indeed, have been Voldemort who murdered Anthony Goldstein, but, like yourself I think, I have my doubts.'

'He is dead then?'

'Yes.' Dumbledore lowered his gaze for a second, then looked back up at Harry. 'He was hit by the Avada Kedavra curse. There was no hope of healing him.'

Harry could not think of an adequate response to this.

'Oh.' He felt very stupid. 'Was he on his own?'

'No. He was walking round the edge of the Forbidden Forest with Zacharias Smith. The curse could not have been aimed at anyone but one of those boys. It was not a chance hit.'

Strangely enough, that was the question Harry had been preparing himself to ask, but was not at a loss for queries to spring upon the headmaster.

'So someone meant to kill him. Why?'

Dumbledore gave a sad kind of smile.

'You have as much idea about that as anyone, possibly more.' He looked Harry straight in the eye now. 'Is there anything you know about Anthony that he may have been hiding from me or his classmates?'

Harry thought hard. This had obviously been the reason Dumbledore had wanted to speak to him so urgently. But was there anything? All Harry knew about was the DA and Muggle Studies.

'No.' He thought for a second. 'You could ask Hermione though. She knows- knew him better than I did.' It felt strange to be using the past tense to talk about Anthony. It had been the same with Cedric. It had seemed like the final settling; being able to talk about him as a person long gone and beyond resurrection. This was somehow easier with Anthony – maybe it was because he didn't know him as well, and hadn't watched him die. But he could picture vividly Anthony falling to the ground in a flash of green light. He had seen it more than once before. Or possibly it was just easier with experience. It was a horrible thought, but nevertheless probably true.

'Miss Granger' Dumbledore said 'would probably know no more than I do.'

'Then why ask me?' Harry asked. He blushed slightly – he hadn't meant to sound so rude.

Dumbledore, however, didn't seem to mind.

'I just hoped…well, thought…never mind. It was just that with your visions lat year, you just seemed to know…' he broke off, looking sad. 'Forgive me, Harry. Yet again I have placed an old man's burdens on your shoulders. If only we knew…' he fell silent, and Harry somehow sensed that it was time to leave.

'Thank you, Professor.'

Dumbledore merely smiled as Harry opened the door and stepped out onto the staircase. It didn't seem a very good omen: leaving Dumbledore alone, looking older and wearier than ever before.

♠                      *                      ♠__

**Becki's Note II**: I'll be disappointed if I haven't got any new reviewers by now, so _pleeeeeeeeeease_ **REVIEW!!!!!!! **Even if it's a flame, at least I'll know someone's reading this…**HINT. HINT. ****HINT!!!!!**


End file.
